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Thoughts about you

Thoughts arouse Right in me Deep down my heart Thinking about you Lovely and lively thoughts Nay not crestfallen Thoughts of pain, Turn to pleasure Just because of your thoughts Pondering where Did that poor devil Creep in between us, Can’t identify him But lo! He hath spoiled The pleasure of love between us That canker crept Slowly within us Like a little baby me Hath enjoth thy company But lo! He hath spoiled Me thinkest mine heart And laughth at me The pain not bygone within My heart seeks another Another of the same sort Heart cares not for the pain Mind knows it’s not pleasure War between both who knowth Who will be victorious? Pleasure or pain within me. Nefarious he is I knowth that He hath hit me once Torture and pain creepth in me Nay let this pleasure remain a secret Deep down my heart…
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Sweet disturbance

Like the buzzing of a bee, Just next to my ear, Like an old ceiling fan, Right above my head, Like a lover-boy speaking in a cell phone, Just next to my seat, Like a loud horn in a bus, Right in the front row, Like a talkative friend, Just next to you in at the cinema, Like a loud mouthed boss, Right before you a pain everywhere, Like the ring tone of a cell phone, Just when you break your head with a code, Like the hush of a cloud, Right when you admire the moon’s its beauty, Like the tone of a little love fight, Just when he is late for dinner, My love for you, Is it an in-healable wound? No I call it a sweet disturbance, A never-ending pleasurable PAIN…
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The unheard tears

Born as male, yet living as female, A curse to the gender, Heavily loaded with make-up and lipstick, Adorned with dazzling attire, When we walk on roads, The wave of crowd move away, Like the red sea parting for the Israelites, They call us THE THIRD GENDER. God’s creation, no sin of ours, Epics talk loud of us, Loyal followers of Lord Rama, Legend behind winning the Kurukshetra, Trustworthy servants of the Chinese emperors, Alexander the great’s best desire, Blessed we are on festival days, Yet deprived of all human rights. For hunger, we remain platters to men’s pleasure, Begging by force is not uncustomary, For none are even trusted as servants, Thrown away not even equal to dust, Tattered by the inhuman attitude, Not even the least respect given to us, None to understand, We crumble down in humiliation. Unfortunate of us, If it be God, an embodiment of man and women, Human race kneel down to pray for health, But for us the treatment is less, Begging or selling ourselves for food, N...
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